


Just Part of the Job

by hibiren



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Feelings, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Late Night Writing, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:53:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27468265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibiren/pseuds/hibiren
Summary: After a post-shift workout at the company gym together, Reno accidentally discovers a 'new' scar on his partner's chest and confronts him about it.
Relationships: Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Just Part of the Job

**Author's Note:**

> small note: this ficlet isn't heavily edited or anything, just a rough little something I wanted to post because I can't sleep <3

“Ready to go home, partner?” asks Reno, while busying himself fixing his sweat-slicked hair back into some semblance of styling from its disheveled, post-workout state. “I’m _starving,_ yo.”

“Hang on, Reno, not everyone can strip as fast as you can,” Rude quips, as he pulls on a new shirt. Reno glances away from his reflection to roll his eyes at his partner and stick his tongue out, but stops. As Rude buttons up his shirt, Reno sees something he hadn’t noticed before. Which is surprising, Reno thinks, they’ve seen each other in states of near-nudity more often than either of them could count.

Rude blinks as Reno steps over to him. Without his sunglasses to cover for him, Rude’s expression flickers dangerously between confusion and suspicion as Reno walks closer, eyes glued to Rude’s chest.

“What?” Rude asks, as he attempts to make quick work of buttoning the rest of his shirt back up. Things are starting to get very awkward, very fast, for him.

“Wait, wait. Stop. Hold on a sec. I gotta… lemme see something real quick,” Reno mumbles, smoothing his hands over the button band of Rude’s shirt before pulling it aside. His suspicion is quickly confirmed; among the many scars on the man’s chest, there’s a new one, freshly formed. A small, circular shape. A shape he knows all too well.

Rude winces, although Reno never touches his skin directly. Reno’s fingers tremble as he grips his partner’s shirt tightly in his hands, like he might tear the fabric, but he holds himself back. Somehow.

“I don’t remember this one,” Reno says softly, eyes lowering, until he’s staring at the floor. Slowly, he loosens his grasp on Rude’s shirt, and his hands fall back to his sides, where they stay.

“Me neither,” Rude says back, although by his tone Reno knows he’s lying. “Well… I read the report. That’s really all I’ve got. I don’t remember it happening.”

“Huh. Lucky you…”

Reno turns, and he wraps his arms around his own waist, gripping his shirt in his hands like he’s hugging himself. He braces against the wall and slowly slides down to the floor unable to meet Rude’s eyes, because he knows he’ll keep looking at that scar if he does.

Reno has scars. Rude has scars. All of them do; it’s just part of the job. Each scar is a story, a mission succeeded or failed, with the results catalogued on their bodies and copied over again on paper for the sake of proof.

It isn’t good to question. Reno knows it’s not good to pry. There’s a thought brewing in the back of his mind that he _really_ doesn’t like - a thought, back to a past mission not too long ago when Rude had saved him from a target’s sudden surprise-attack by stepping in the way of the bullet that had Reno’s name on it…

A guilty feeling starts bubbling up inside Reno as Rude offers a hand to help him up. Rude’s shirt is buttoned now; the new scar hidden away. Reno realizes this as he slowly raises his head and briefly catches his worry-eyed reflection in his partner’s sunglasses. Rude’s dressed and ready to go, like things are normal. He, at least, is good at pretending when it comes to normality.

“This… that… you…” Reno babbles ridiculously, struggling to make a coherent sentence fall out of his trembling lips. Eventually, he settles on, “That one shoulda been mine.”

“You’ll just owe me one, how about that,” Rude offers jokingly, in that flat, dry _‘every time we get called for a mission it means a 90% chance of death’_ -way, and Reno laughs.

“Fine. I owe you one bullet. But _only_ one, you hear me?”

When Rude raises an eyebrow, Reno sighs.

“I _mean,_ we’ll be even after that. I ain’t plannin’ on dyin’ any time soon, so you better be stayin’ alive with me. I got a good few years left on me before my deathwish starts really kickin’ in, y’know?”

Reno senses the eyeroll before he sees it, and Rude elbows him sharply in the ribs before he can continue.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here. Thought you said you were hungry,” Rude says, and Reno elbows him back just as hard before snapping back an answer.

“Yeah, yeah, but I ain’t buyin’. It’s your turn.”

“Fine, but I get to pick the place.”

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> want to keep up with me? you can find me on twitter (blog is 18+) at [duskynebula](https://twitter.com/duskynebula)!


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